Shame
by madamemoonyblues
Summary: Remus Lupin has never been a stranger to shame, but there are some things that even he cannot bear. Things that go bump in the night are not always monsters, but they always strike fear in our hearts. Sirius/Remus, James/Sirius two-shot
1. Shame

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, the following story would be absolutely canon, an J.K. Rowling would be reading along with a face along the lines of 0_o. I don't make any money from this, just use the reviews to stroke my ego.**

**Shame**

**_I pray for someone to ache for me the way I ache for you....Once I swore I would die for you but I never meant it like this. ~ Stabbing Westward, "Shame"_**

**Remus Lupin has never been a stranger to shame. He is acquainted with it at the tender age of seven. Even before he is able to understand lycanthropy any further than what he feels and sees and dreams of at night, he knows it is something to be ashamed of. When he meets his friends he is bashful first about his quietude and serious thoughts, and later about the changes that mark his body as a man's long before his friends' voices have even cracked. They are jealous; he is only ashamed. In Potions he finds himself so bereft that he entreats Severus Snape for help. His shame doubles when his friends find out and take the mickey for it.**

**But in his seventh year at Hogwarts, Remus Lupin has learned to walk hand in hand with his shame. At the slightest glance or brush of skin from Sirius, the color rises in his cheeks and he is sure that someone, anyone (not James, please, anyone but James) will see and they will know. And when Sirius answers the silent wishes that Remus harbors, he is grateful that it is dark when Sirius visits him. He cannot help but feel ashamed when he is made giddy by whispers of, "Gods, Moony," in his ear.**

**No one knows, of course. Not even James and Peter; or rather, especially not them. Remus, in his shame, is careful about every time his eye wanders, and he has become old hand at every privacy spell ever invented. He is lying in bed four days after the full moon, listening to Peter's snores, waiting for James's loud, even breathing to join it, feeling ashamed. The full moon always makes Sirius antsy; there is no sex for days and it always makes Remus strangely frightened of everyone else in the castle. On some intellectual level that is not on good terms with his shame, he knows that Sirius is not just a bed partner but a best friend. He has particularly intimate knowledge of the many limitations of a werewolf's life, and has never complained. This doesn't ease Remus's fears whatsoever. **

**His breath catches when he hears James crawl from his bed. He knows it is James by the sound of each foot hitting the floor separately and the relative quiet of his feet. From the many nights of waiting anxiously for his roommates to sleep, he knows their sounds: Peter's bed squeaks horribly any time he so much as imagines rolling over; Sirius hits the floor with both feet (at least at night; before class is another story) and nearly always bangs his knee on the trunk at the foot of his bed. James, star Quidditch player, moves with a grace matched only by the girls who chase him unsuccessfully, and his bed dare not squeak for fear of being beaten into submission.**

**James takes two small, smooth steps toward his bed and Remus buries his face in his pillow, feigning a light snore that Sirius tells him is endearing. His curtains are rustled momentarily, and then James is retreating in the opposite direction. Peter and the door to the stairs are both in the other way; Sirius is the only possible destination to the right of James's bed. Remus frowns. They are going marauding without him, it seems. It's not new, of course, and James can't know that it is supposed to be his own night alone with Sirius. Disappointed, he rolls to face right and resigns himself to sleep.**

**Until a small, soft thump against the floor makes his eyes snap wide open and he nearly sits up in bed. There is a whisper of bed curtains, a happy groan, and then a surprised, (but pleased, Remus notes sadly) "Oh!" There is another rustle and then Remus **_**does**_** sit up and, sucking in air as slowly and surreptitiously as he knows how, he pokes his head from between his own bed hangings. There are a significant number of soft, slithering noises coming from Sirius's bed. He knows that he should go to sleep, that James and Sirius are incomprehensible to all normal people (and werewolves, apparently). Instead, he is pulling his wand and aiming it at the drapery around where Sirius sleeps.**

**In a few quiet words and a small puff of magic that is like a sigh of defeat, he is staring at James's naked back and bottom. Remus is absolutely certain that this is abnormal. Sirius is a dedicated "boxers only, if that" sort of bloke, but Peter and James have always been, like himself, firm believers in pajamas. Remus is hiding a decade of scars; Peter, a layer of baby fat that refuses to drop away even at seventeen. James is simply cold-natured; Remus is fairly certain that the Potter household is not home to a single pair of short pants.**

**Nevertheless, what he is seeing is undoubtedly James Potter's lean, bare back. Remus is, as usual, beginning to feel ashamed of himself. It's not that he hasn't seen James in any and all states of undress. Hogwarts's tendency towards large communal showers has assured that the boys know each crooked little line of their friends' bodies. Even if Remus had not known that it was James who was up and about by his distinctive sounds, he would have known from the lone scar which cuts across James's right shoulder blade. It is another mark of Remus's shame, and they do not talk about the night that it happened. Sometimes, Remus wonders if he will one day be forced to sit alone in an empty room, thinking of absolutely nothing, in order to escape the painful bloom of embarrassment. In any case, it is not the sight of James's body that has Remus out of his element. It is the uncanny feeling that something in the air has shifted; that he has caught a single moment in time that his eyes were not meant to find.**

**His eyes follow the pale line of James's scar across his shoulder and down his right arm to learn that the hand attached to it is gripping one sharp hip. With horror he realizes that Sirius Black is bare-arsed naked and, for a reason he wishes he didn't understand, gripping the headboard with both hands, forehead resting against it. If he were the one kneeling on the mattress behind him, Remus is certain that he would be blushing like mad, but now James's left arm is moving and though the rest of his body blocks the full view, Remus knows just where those quick, clever fingers are disappearing to. He hears a low moan and realizes with a pang of despair that James has no shame. He has laid no barriers between his actions and the world outside. He is everything that Remus is not.**

**He has never had Sirius like this: shameless, open, submissive. If he is technical, he has never had Sirius at all. Although the wolf in him protests at being dominated so completely, the human sensibilities in him will take Sirius any way they can get him. Besides, his body now welcomes the intrusion that means that Sirius is on him, in him, all around him. It means that they are touching and kissing and Sirius is groaning those things that he loves but mortify him beyond belief. For weeks after that first time, he heard every sentence from Sirius's mouth not as, "Pass the butter," or, "Give me your Transfiguration homework," but, "Merlin, Moony, so tight!" It is almost unbearable to be around him because he should be the happiest he's ever been. His shame, it seems, is out to ruin everything that could possibly make him happy.**

**He realizes that he has been averting his eyes and when he looks back, he regrets it. James and Sirius, like twins in their everyday synchronicity, are moving together seamlessly. Remus silently acquiesces that compared to this, his own fumblings with Sirius are a sad sort of joke. James's head is bent to Sirius's shoulder, his left hand over the other boy's on the headboard, and the only sounds are the quiet noises they try not to make. Remus, who doesn't remember a time before his senses were sharp and clear, considers that, were Peter awake, he would probably not be able to distinguish the sounds from the normal tossings and turnings of the night. For some reason, this is what finally manages to hurt him. The only part of his curse that once seemed almost a gift is now turned cruelly against him; even if he pulls the cover over his head, he will hear each small whimper and groan as James claims what has always been his.**

**He is thanking every god he knows of that there are no words involved when James throws his head back and, in a throaty voice Remus has never heard him use, croaks, "So perfect together." The answer is only a moan and a rough shift of Sirius's hips. Remus considers killing himself. It would be stupid, he knows, but he cannot imagine such a human thing as shame living on after death. It could be the one thing he would never be second to James at, if he were to die first. He is struck with a sudden horrifying ripple of uncertainty that targets his gut and his jealousy. Has he been doing this with James all along? Moony's senses may be perfect, but in his sleep he is just as dead to the world as any teenage boy. He should've known that there could be no exception to the rule that stated that Sirius could do _nothing_ without James.**

**Unable to bear the humiliation of being played the fool any longer, Remus grabs for the bottle of Dreamless Sleep at his bedside. He tosses it back with a wince that comes when doing something not strictly within the rules, although four days after the phase he assumes he is still within his rights. He has not been quick enough, though, and before the darkness can overtake him, he is watching James's movements become more and more an off-kilter jerk, and the hand that has been resting innocently against a hip is now slipping around to the front. In moments he can see and hear and, in a vicious burst of sensory detail, smell the pleasure that rolls from Sirius as he is tipped over the edge, and it is so familiar that Remus is aching. James's hips slam once, twice, and then he is gone as well, every defined muscle catching and releasing, falling against his best friend in the pleased, empty exhaustion that follows such encounters.**

**And then they are sliding down the headboard and Remus is sliding away from reality towards the foggy world of sleep. His eyes are blurred and his other senses are beginning to dull mercifully, but he is aware, dimly, that they are kissing. That is wrong, that is not meant to happen, and when Sirius whispers, "I love you," Remus's whole world goes black. Miraculously, he is asleep and he is glad; it is the closest thing he knows to death. Somewhere deep inside the peaceful void of slumber, he is swallowing all of his shame and dreading the days to come.**

**_A/N: So hopefully that was decent? I'm just looking for feedback on this, it's my first real foray into the world of slash (although I've been reading it for years). I have to say, I was very pleased with myself when I finished it at 3 a.m. on the beach. This is now a two-shot. Yay me!_**


	2. Pride

**Pride**

**_"This fate of ours is still unknown....I've seen the other side, the one world beyond our dog pride," ~ Machinae Supremacy, "Blind Dog Pride"_**

**Sirius Black has never been acquainted with shame. From the time he is born, perfect and screaming, as the Black heir, he knows only pride. Even before he can grasp the concept of being nobility, he is sure of himself, always, and no matter what he has done it is not a mistake. When he meets his friends, his stomach does not twist in knots, he does not stutter, and he certainly does not curl quietly into a corner like - wossname? - Remus Lupin. He sticks his right hand out, displaying the gaudy ring that marks him as one of the ridiculously wealthy_,_ and shakes firmly with James Potter. He is not ashamed when he admits all his family have been Slytherin, when Remus turns out to be more man than all of them put together, or when he is forced to knock about naked after a night spent as Padfoot. In fact, there are times when his friends won't look him in the eye and he wonders what is wrong with proclaiming himself the best at whatever they are doing. He is confused when Remus tells him that pride is one of the seven deadly sins.**

**Unbelievably, Sirius Black actually grows up a bit as he gets older. Yes, he is still a bit of a bastard at times, but it is mostly a joke and his friends double over laughing when he prances about in the things his mother sends him and talks loftily of trips to palaces in foreign countries. He is alternately dignified and rowdy and James, unsure of himself at times but nowhere near as painfully shy as Remus or uncaring as Peter, picks up on it right away. He is seen as the leader of the pack, but he is only a patchwork quilt of them all: Sirius's swagger and mischief, Remus's sophistication and mystique. He fails to learn from Peter when he ought to keep his mouth shut. Unfortunately, this is the one trait that could have gotten him Lily Evans. Despite the fact that he is not one person at all but a potion made from bits of each of them, James Potter is Sirius's best friend, and of that he is proud.**

**In seventh year, Sirius gains a new source of pride. He may cause a bit of a ruckus from time to time, but he is not stupid and certainly not blind. Moony - yes, flushing, disapproving, frowning little Moony, who is really not so little anymore - is eyeing him. Or rather, attempting not to eye him. From the moment he realizes it at breakfast one morning when Remus drops his Astronomy homework into a spot of jam, he refuses to go in circles with him about it. He is proud of his initiative when he simply climbs into Remus's bed that night. He does not make awkward attempts to have even more awkward conversations about why they are doing whatever it is they are actually doing._ Fucking,_ his mind supplies, but that is not quite it at all. He doesn't like the uncertainty of it; it is a little too close to shame for his tastes. He feels the overwhelming need to counteract it.**

**It is Christmas break when he kisses James. It is not the first time it has happened (for Firewhiskey seems to bring out the affection in both of them) but it is the first time Sirius has tried to take it anyplace other than a laugh and a story later on, when their heads are aching at the thought. Things with James are clear-cut: they love each other because they are best mates. James is straight. But during the holiday, he fucks Sirius anyway, and yes, Sirius knows that it is the right word for their actions. He doesn't even feel humiliated with James above him, shoving and biting and groaning. In fact, he is proud of himself for the pleasure he can give his best friend. He is less proud when he realizes he misses the soft, breathy little noises that Remus always makes beneath him, as if he would like to beg but is too ashamed. It is at this point that he learns (better late than never, eh?) that messing about with James and…whatever he is doing with Remus….are not the same thing at all. He knows that, after break, he will **_**want **_**Remus to beg, he will **_**make**_** him, and that will mean something. Maybe that will stop his stomach turning upside down every time he thinks about it.**

**He is expecting Remus when his bed curtains are moved four nights after a full moon. He is proud of himself for not acting like a lovesick puppy (oh, the irony) around him. He is anticipating few words and many, many touches and noises, and all of this is going to mean something to him, and suddenly he is more frightened than he has ever been, even more frightened than when he finally plucked up the courage to leave home. He carefully opens one eye. It is James. A mixture of disappointment and relief covers him but then he is pressed against the headboard and then James is in him in him in him and as **_**good**_** as it is, it is wrong. He fights the urge to tell him to stop or to call out for Remus, because these are bad ideas. So he presses his forehead to the cool wood and lets it happen, trying to battle the squirming in his belly that is over-riding the pleasure, telling him that he is despicable. He is confused and, for the first time, ashamed. When the word 'perfect,' passes James's lips, all he can see and hear and imagine is Remus doing this to him (a totally new and not unpleasant thought), and that, coupled with James's hand on him, tight and rough and desperate, is enough to send him into a downward spiral that is both ecstasy and despair. If he had his wits about him, he would've found that too eloquent for his own good, but as it is, he is too exhausted to care. There is no pride, this time, in making James whine like a girl as he comes. **

**James kisses him and Sirius returns it warily. There is something almost dangerous in Prongs's eyes tonight, and Sirius thinks that he must know that something is up. That is horrible and wonderful at once and he mutters, "I love you." James nods and his eyes flick sideways. **

"**Lily," he says flatly.**

"**Remus," Sirius replies, and then James is patting him on the back and telling him he knew all along that this would happen, that he'd seen it for years. James is proud of himself for his foresight. Sirius is still ashamed. He is, however, eternally grateful that he and James will not need to have some sort of heart-to-heart with too many words and a heavy dose of saccharine sweetness. The questions and answers go unspoken and he compares this to Remus, who would need four hours of calmly shooting down everything he said, and there would be crying and a desperate need for things to make sense. But that was Remus, and that, above all, was what he wanted. His sense of pride begins to return as he realizes he **_**has**_** Remus, right where he wants him. He will tell him, the next day even, and he will not have to feel that fucking stupid twitch in the back of his mind that is shame.**

**The next day, Remus is silent at breakfast. At lunch. In the common room. If there is something Sirius is as unfamiliar with as shame, it is worry. He bites at his nails and Peter nearly has a seizure. Sirius has declared nail-biting extremely unsophisticated for the span of their years together. He may have abandoned his family's home and morals, but the name of Black still lingers along with the manners and habits that come included. He doesn't care. He gnaws until they bleed and then it is bedtime and he waits, he waits and listens and there is no sound of feet across the floor, but there is also no cute little Moony-snore. Finally, he bounds from his bed, knee-first into his school trunk. He hops about for a moment, silently swearing, and then pauses at Remus's bed.**

"**Moony," and then thinks that is not right. "Remus," he corrects, and waits for an answer. There is none. "Oh, well, you know I'm coming in anyway," he says, with a laugh that threatens to choke him.**

"**Don't." Sirius falters. He is close to blurting out something stupid like, "I wish you could have my babies," or, more descriptively, "When I'm around you, I feel as if small mammals were eating my internal organs." Of course, that would be counter-productive. Moony would stick his head out and, completely straight-faced, say something like, "My presence is like weasels devouring your spleen?" And then they would be entirely off-topic, and Sirius has never been all too good at keeping a conversation on one track anyway.**

"**I'm coming in anyway," he repeats, and parting the crimson hangings is familiar. Seeing Remus curled into a single corner, in a surprisingly compact bundle of body and blanket, is less familiar. He lays down anyway, tugging lightly at the blanket to cover up his freezing torso. "I have something to tell you," he says conspiratorially. He wonders if someone should write all of this down for posterity. It's much more interesting than all that Shakespeare nonsense that Remus is always going on about.**

"**You don't have to." The voice is quiet and Sirius thinks that maybe it is shaking. "Could you just tell James to do a Silencing Charm next time? Hearing it was a little much." The bottom of the world falls out from beneath him. He has changed his mind; perhaps he **_**is**_** stupid. Bugger all. This is not supposed to happen. Especially not to Sirius Black.**

"**That wasn't…over the holidays….Remus, listen to me!" He has somehow managed to flip onto his stomach and pull a pillow over his head. It's not like him to turn down a conversation. Even this one. **

"**Yes, yes, I understand. You were…I don't know, testing yourself out on me. Decided you liked blokes, and now you and James and Lily are going to be one big dysfunctional family. How lovely. I'm going to sleep." The voice is definitely shaking. Sirius wonders if he is crying and balks when he realizes that would make two of them."Bollocks. That's not it at all. If you would just -,"**

"**I don't want to listen, Sirius. Besides, isn't explaining yourself beneath you? I was what you wanted for a while and you took it. Move along. Time waits for no Black." **

**Sirius fights the opposing urges to bash his head in or drag him up and snog him until he's forgotten all about James bloody Potter. Eventually, he does neither. He throws his hands up, defeated. "Fine, Moony. Just go right ahead thinking you know **_**everything **_**about **_**everyone**_** and don't even stop to wonder if maybe I was here to tell you that I'm absolutely mad for you." Someone snorts loudly , but he doesn't care about not waking them up anymore. He is clambering out of the bed and across the room, delivering a solid kick to his trunk. He doesn't want to get back into his own bed. It smells like James and that will just make things worse. His pride wants to blame Prongs right now, but the side of himself that is being eaten away by shame is telling him that it will never be anyone's fault but his. He drops unceremoniously to the floor and bangs his head against the mattress. Sirius Black, who is good at everything, is absolutely terrible at love. He should've known there was a catch.**

**There is a sound of someone tossing about in bed. He is genuinely surprised when Remus is the one slipping, soft and deft and all those other words that are usually reserved for girls, onto the floor and stepping towards him. He sits so suddenly that it is like falling, but he makes no noise and Sirius thinks that if this is what comes of being a werewolf, being quiet and perfect and so dangerously calm, it must not be so terrible a thing. Remus is looking at him. He is not crying. Sirius is.**

**"Look, it's completely believable that you're absolutely mad. But don't try to confuse me. My mind is all I've got." His mouth is smiling. His eyes are not. "I'm fine with you and James, really." It's a lie. But a good one. There is another snort. James must be awake. Sirius wants to throttle him for finding this funny.**

**"There is no me and James. James and me? James and I? I dunno, the English language deserted me. We just… fucked." Well, that was eloquent.**

**"So did we," Remus counters, and his eyes are daring him to disagree. "Isn't that right? Or am I making that up? Maybe I'm the one that's mad." Sirius has rarely seen him like this. There is something in his eyes that could be anger or hurt and even though he has reason to fear the wrath of Remus Lupin, he would honestly rather be hexed six ways from Sunday than have to watch Remus cry.**

**"No, it's not right. Are you really going to make me explain this? I'm pants at making speeches, you know that." This is not true. He is excellent at parading about in circles, proclaiming his own greatness. He is, however, pants at telling Remus Lupin that he's in love with him. Which is unfortunate, as everyone already knows how great he is, and Remus has no idea that he has a best mate that would like nothing more than to spend forever trying his hardest not to screw things up between them.**

"**I'm sure you can put a few sentences together. I won't even correct your grammar." This is a startling promise. Grammar and Remus go hand in hand like...well, there's really nothing to even compare to that. He decides he will give it a shot.**

**"Um. Being with you...was different than being with a bird."**

**"Well, that's not surprising. Y'know, different bits and all. Arse-buggery." Remus is mocking him. Sirius thinks this might be a good sign.**

**"No, I meant...I didn't know if it was because we were mates or...and then, with James, it still wasn't the same...and the **_**weasel**_**, you know, I mean, **_**shame**_** -"**

**"You're not making any sense you know." He's laughing now. And he means it, with his eyes. Even his scars seem happier, which makes no sense at all, but Sirius supposes that is what happens when you are in love.**

**"I'm in love with you." It tumbles out before he can stop it, and maybe that is for the best. Remus isn't laughing anymore. Even James is perfectly still. He worries for a moment that he might have gone suddenly and completely deaf.**

**"That's not funny, Padfoot. Try again."**

**James stick his disheveled head out into the dormitory. "He called me Remus twelve times over the break. While we...y'know." He makes awkward hand motions that are partially hidden by the drapery around him. Sirius blushes. James hadn't mentioned that.**

**Everything is quiet again. James goes back to minding his own business (or rather, he puts his head back inside his curtains and continues to listen). Peter is rolling over - squeeeeeak. And then Remus drops his head into his hands and this, Sirius thinks, is the moment where it means something. It's not as scary as he thought it might be. Remus is laughing and crying all at once and shaking his head, his fingers threaded through tawny hair. This isn't how he pictured things, either.**

**"Moony. Moony, stop or I'm going to cry again. I swear, Moony, this is not funny, shut up. REMUS!" Peter falls out of bed and James is laughing again and everyone is laughing at him and he feels ashamed. Disgruntled, he stands and climbs into bed, pulling the comforter over his head and wishing for the life of him that he was better at talking. There is someone crawling in behind him. It is too warm to be James. He pulls the covers even further around him. **

**"If you're going to laugh at me again, you can go away now," he mumbles from beneath the layers of fabric. **

**"Sirius Orion Black," Remus's voice says, and Sirius is wincing at the formality, "I must be absolutely barking, because I'm going to spend the rest of my life blushing and hiding and trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with you. The wizarding world will worship me as a martyr, but at least I will never be bored."**

_**Oh. **_**Well then. He wriggles about in the covers to find an opening until he can get his mouth against Moony's properly and it is different, not because it finally means something, but because he knows it has been meaning **_**everything**_** all along. Remus's mouth is hot and open and he darts his tongue in to taste, but then James is yelling at them to go to sleep and have a go at each other when everyone in the room isn't awake. Remus pulls the covers over himself and buries his face in the pillow, one arm draped across Sirius's chest. Sirius wonders how he managed to end up with friends that understand things so much better than him. He feels triumphant, though, for a job thoroughly (if not well) done. Looking down at the boy pressed against him, he has never been more proud.**

**_A/N: So, that is that. I don't like it as much as the first bit because I am very much a Remus in personality and being Sirius is ridiculously difficult. I tried to make it funnier in light of the point of view it was coming from. A happy ending coming from me! *shock* Hopefully, it didn't come off too sappy. And also, hopefully less of you will want to punch Sirius in the face! Thank you to all my lovely reviewers who assured me that this little follow-up would be welcome._**


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